


Unapologist

by SleepsWithCoyotes



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Mountains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 23:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10449537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepsWithCoyotes/pseuds/SleepsWithCoyotes
Summary: But Cecil...mountains.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Archiving old fic from 2013 - I actually haven't listened since ep 33, from the looks of things, so everything I post will likely be terribly non-canon-compliant. No comment spoilers, please--I do intend to get caught up!
> 
> I may have had a "Mountains!" moment myself. So of course I had to fic about it.

Sometimes Cecil's voice seemed to follow him wherever he went. Not in a _creepy_ sense, like a disembodied pet that wouldn't go home no matter how often you shooed it away; it was just that Cecil's voice had become the comforting background hum to his life that made the town's Orwellian media habits bearable. It used to disturb him, the way all of Night Vale tuned in faithfully to the same program, especially on the days Cecil waxed poetic about him. Now it was worth a grin to duck into the station's break room, half a hallway down from the man himself, and hear Cecil's excited voice bubbling out of a speaker mounted over the door.

" _\--brought me lunch! Mind you, I still haven't convinced our favorite scientist to sit down for an interview,_ " Cecil was saying as Carlos set the bag from the deli on the table. Wishing he'd thought to grab a few drinks as well, he started gingerly opening cabinet doors in search of a clean mug or a paper cup or--

Movement from the coffee maker would have frozen him in his tracks six months ago, but now he kept his movements natural while paying close attention to his peripheral vision. There seemed to be...tendrils reaching up out of the coffee, waving like the fronds of curious anemones, but when he turned his head minutely in their direction, they retracted in a hurry, sloshing coffee halfway up the sides of the clear pot.

Right. Coffee could wait until he got back to the lab. The 'caffeine' thing was less negotiable; luckily the station had a soda machine.

" _In fact, he usually tends to avoid the sound booth altogether. Now, I know some people like to keep their work and home lives separate, but I visit Carlos at the lab all the time. You don't think he's still worried about the microphone, do you? It's really quite friendly, after all._ "

Carlos snorted as he dug in his pockets for change. The urge to yell down the hallway that he was more concerned for radiation levels than the friendliness of Cecil's microphone was _there,_ but so was his commitment to being a professional. The recording booth was soundproofed anyway.

Coming up with a half-dozen quarters, he bounced them on his hand until they spread out across his palm, automatically turning over the ones that lay face up to check the designs on the back. It was a silly habit--he wasn't actually keeping a collection himself--but ever since the new state and newer national parks quarters started coming out, he always checked his coins to see if a fresh design had been released.

" _Well, listeners, since I apparently have a date--_ "

This time around he had three eagles, a bicentennial drummer, the wrinkled face of Colorado's Pike's Peak and a somewhat morbid bison skull with a low range of--

" _Mountains!_ " he shouted uncontrollably; it was practically a tic.

He was out of the break room and down the hall like a shot, vaguely aware as he threw open the door to the sound booth that Cecil taking off his headphones was likely the only thing standing between him and a thoroughly-deserved scolding. As it was Cecil only spun his chair around wide-eyed, clutching his headphones to his chest as Carlos strode towards him.

"What?" Cecil demanded, searching Carlos' face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Mountains, Cecil!" Carlos said a little too loudly, slapping his quarters down on the desk. When he pulled his hand away, he realized the coins were all face-up and scrambled to flip them back over until he found the two he was looking for. "Look! On official US coins! Collected right here in Night Vale," he added self-righteously. There was no way Cecil was going to get him on a technicality this time. The proof was _there._

Cecil looked at the coins. Then he looked at Carlos. And sighed.

"Mountains again?" he said plaintively, setting his headphones aside.

"But--but they're _on_ the _quarters!_ "

"And South Dakota's has the Looming Visages," Cecil replied, not quite rolling his eyes. "I mean, please. I've heard of 'mountain faces,' but that's taking the joke a little too far."

"Looming--what--you mean Mount Rushmore?" Carlos sputtered. "But that's real. That--how is that any different from the Pyramids? The rea--er, the historical ones? Or the Sphinx?"

Cecil eyed him blankly. "What does the debate coach have to do with anything?"

The sensation of something just _snapping_ inside his brain was starting to become a familiar one. So was Cecil's subsequent look of alarm.

"Cecil," he said slowly, "you need to come with me. We're going to go look at some mountains."

Cecil's wide smile was as nervous as his laugh. "Er...you mean right now?"

Wait. No. That wouldn't do. Cecil had his job to consider. "Right. How do you request time off?"

Smile slipping, Cecil gave him a look of such helpless perplexity, Carlos almost wanted to play along, assure Cecil he'd only been teasing. Almost. "Well--there's a form. But only Station Management has those."

"Okay." Carlos nodded once. "Be right back."

" _What?_ "

Carlos was halfway to the door before Cecil slammed into him from behind, wrapping both arms tightly around him and yanking him back into Cecil's chest. "Cecil," he said patiently, taking hold of Cecil's wrists without pulling, not yet.

Cecil, face tucked against the join of Carlos' throat and shoulder, shook his head with a panicked whimper. "Nonono," he said, voice muffled, "I'm sorry. I _totally_ believe you. Of course there are mountains. What was I thinking?"

Carlos sighed. "You're humoring me, aren't you?"

"No! No, don't be silly! I'm just--Carlos, wait," he said frantically as Carlos tried slipping out of his hold. "It's not that I don't--stop that--don't believe you. I believed you about the--the quarks, didn't I? And snow? I just--Car--ow!"

He didn't think he'd actually hurt Cecil, but he froze regardless. Considering how quickly he found himself spun around with his back pressed to the closed sound booth door, Cecil had been banking on exactly that reaction.

Hands braced on Carlos' shoulders, hair disheveled and eyes a little wild, Cecil was a distracting sight as he held Carlos pinned, breath coming just slightly too fast. "Carlos," he said urgently. "I know your mountains are important to you, but can't we just...agree to disagree?"

_But they're **mountains** ,_ he wanted to say. That he even felt a twinge as he slowly shook his head was proof of how deeply Cecil had entrenched himself in Carlos' life; with anyone else, he wouldn't even be having this conversation. "I'm sorry," he said, resting his hands on Cecil's waist as Cecil's determined look went tragic. "But a scientist is passionate about the truth."

Something sparked in Cecil's eyes just then, something almost unholy.

"Oh?" Cecil purred, leaning in deliberately. "What else is a scientist passionate about?"

Carlos blinked. "What? Cecil--wait!" he yelped as Cecil swayed closer with a heavy-lidded stare. "You're at work--"

"But off the air," Cecil pointed out ruthlessly, eyes fixed on Carlos' mouth. "For the next twenty-six minutes."

"Cecil," he insisted, craning his head away as Cecil angled in for a kiss. He jumped as Cecil mouthed a hot trail down his throat instead, breath catching as Cecil reversed course with just a hint of teeth. Damn it, someone had to be the reasonable one here. "We can't--Station Management--"

"Can get their own," Cecil growled just under Carlos' ear, palms sliding down Carlos' chest to slip inside his coat, untucking his shirt as a knee insinuated itself between his legs.

"That's not what I--Cecil--you can't distract me with sex!"

He meant it in a general, moral sense, but when Cecil glanced up, he looked surprised. "Well of course I can. It is working, isn't it?"

"Augh," Carlos said succinctly, letting his head fall back against the door with a thud. Cecil hummed to himself as he leaned back in, wordless and smug; it was probably that look of triumph that made Carlos dig in his heels.

Settling a hand at the back of Cecil's neck, Carlos pulled him in, catching Cecil's mouth for a kiss so hungry he nearly succeeded in distracting himself. Cecil didn't protest when Carlos turned them around, pressing Cecil into the wall beside the door with a slow roll of his hips that had Cecil melting, groaning into his mouth and clutching at his back under his shirt.

"You know I love you," he murmured against Cecil's lips, "right?"

"Hn," Cecil managed as Carlos rocked against him again, lifting his chin and tipping his head to the side in response to Carlos' gentle nuzzle.

He never saw Carlos reach for the doorknob and silently turn it, but he certainly noticed when Carlos slipped out of his grasp and went sprinting down the hall. The tongue-tied cursing was a dead giveaway.

He would have felt guilty, but they had an agreement. Cecil knew damn well he shouldn't teach Carlos the rules unless he wanted Carlos to play the game.

Station Management's door was right at the end of the hall, a nearly-unremarkable piece of frosted glass through which vague shadows appeared to writhe in eye-bending knots. If he looked closely, they seemed to stretch off into the distance on either side, much further than the shape of the building should have accommodated; he couldn't actually tell how deep the shadows were layered due to the thickness of the glass. Strangely hypnotic, their agitated dance drew the eyes and the mind, and Carlos had to remind himself firmly what he was there for before he could gather himself to knock on the door.

He cleared his throat. At least he'd listened to Cecil's show long enough to know the proper etiquette.

"Excuse me!" he shouted through the closed door. "I'd like to request a time off form. For Cecil," he clarified as the shadows within began to slow, their growing stillness as intimidating as a stare. Down the hall at his back, Cecil strangled a whimper. "We'll be traveling outside Night Vale," he added, clenching his fists against a formless terror he could actually feel lapping against his shoes, cold as lakewater. Now it had reached his calves. Now it was swirling around his knees.

Nothing moved inside the silent office.

"Three days should just about cover it," Carlos said firmly.

He nearly had a heart attack as a plain white form skidded out from under the closed door, already filled in with a signature that was still fresh. The signature was still _dripping,_ in fact, as he noticed when he gingerly picked the page up, pinching one corner between thumb and forefinger.

"Well," he said, skimming it over quickly. "It looks like we've got a long weekend to look forward to."

"I think I need to sit down," Cecil said faintly, looking pale and shaken when Carlos whipped back around.

Feeling like an ass, he rushed to Cecil's side. "Sorry," he said quickly, settling his free hand at the small of Cecil's back and steering him towards the break room, offering him a shoulder to lean on, just in case. "Here, let's get you--that's it, right over here--uh, you probably don't want any coffee-- _trust_ me--but can I get you anything? Water, a soda? I brought lunch," he added quickly, trying to distract them both from the reason he'd just...flipped his shit, apparently.

Then again, three-day weekend with Cecil, the nearest mountains he could find, and more Cecil. _Score._

Staring blankly at Carlos, Cecil opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, "I believe you."

"Ah." Embarrassed, Carlos rubbed at the back of his neck. "I guess I should've asked if you had any plans this weekend. It's all right if you don't want to go--"

"No, I mean I _believe_ you," Cecil interrupted him, holding his eyes earnestly. "You...you just...no one would just...ugh." Cecil shook his head, lost. " _Mountains._ "

"Entirely real, I'm afraid," Carlos commiserated. Then he had a thought. "So I guess this means you've never made out on top of a mountain."

Cecil blinked, intrigued. "Er...no? Is it different on a mountaintop?"

Carlos grinned. "Care to find out?"


End file.
